


I Came for the Game

by writingonpostcards



Series: 10k Posts Giveaway [17piesinseptember] [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gay Bar, Getting Together, Hockey, M/M, Meddling Friends, Mild Language, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 23:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20515139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: Written for my10k posts giveaway on TumblrPrompt: imagine if jack and bitty met in a gay bar, but bitty legitimately thinks that jack was straight and just there with gay friends because jack was the only one focusing on the hockey game that was showing.





	I Came for the Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofcamelot/gifts).

> It's like "I watch for the plot" (just go with it).  
[Extended prompt from tumblr here](https://17piesinseptember.tumblr.com/post/186924069151/gutsybitsies-gutsybitsies-asdfsadfs-imagine-if)

Jack watches the goalie save a shot with his hands behind his back. “Fucking hell."

“Excuse me?” 

Jack turns. A blond man is paused half-way to sitting on the bar stool beside him.

“Not you,” Jack apologises. “I’m watching the game.”

The blond sits. “You’re into hockey?” 

Jack wonders if he’s about to be recognised. “You could say that."

“I am saying that. You’ve come to a gay bar and are watching hockey instead of  _ that _ .” He gestures to the dancefloor. “I wouldn’t have thought this is the best place to watch a game.”

“I’d rather not be doing it here,” Jack agrees, “but I promised a friend I’d come out with him. So.” Jack shrugs.

“Ah.” The man pours himself a glass of water. 

Jack returns his attention to the TV, catching the goalie making another impossible save.

“Shit,” the blond says. “They should’ve brought him up from the farm team way earlier.”

Jack runs his eyes over the man’s painted-on skinny jeans and patterned top with half the buttons undone. “You follow?” he asks.

The man shoots him a look. “I’m sensing surprise in your tone,” he says dryly.

“Sorry.” Jack pulls his eyes away from the man. “And you’re right.”

“Yeah, I am. I was saying to my friend the other day…”

-

“So.” Kent wakes Jack up before his alarm the next morning. “Who was that guy you were with last night?”

“What?” Jack croaks, pushing Kent’s morning-breath face away.

“The cute blond with the calves.”

“Most people have calves,” Jack says instead of ‘yeah, I noticed them too, and did you see his shoulders?’.

“You gonna call him?” Kent asks, shoving stuff into a backpack. 

That wakes Jack somewhat. “Call him?”

“You spent all night flirting,” Kent explains. “Seems like the next step.”

Jack groans. “Shit.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice you were flirting? I thought you were getting better at that.”

“No, I knew. I just—Shit.” Jack pushes his hair off his face. “I didn't get his number.”

-

When Kent stands on the bench in the locker room before warm-ups that night, Jack is weary. 

“Listen up, fellas!” Kent calls. “Jack has lost something important. I want us all on the lookout.”

He pauses dramatically, during which time Jack guesses what he’s going to say and tries to cross the room to stop him. 

“The phone number of the love of his life.”

_ “The fuck, Kenny,”  _ Jack hisses, arriving too late.

Kent winks at Jack and slings an arm over his shoulders. “Jack spent all last night talking hockey with a cute blond-”

“We all know what that means!” Hannigan calls to cheers and wolf-whistles.

Jack buries his face in a hand.

“Alas,” Kent sighs, “I mean that literally. But the idiot forgot to ask for his number.”

“Thanks for calling me an idiot,” Jack mumbles, though he has been feeling idoiotic about the misstep. Eric really knew about hockey. Not to mention the thighs and shoulders. 

“Thankfully, Jack knows Eric is in the stands tonight,” Kent reveals to cheering. "It’s our mission to locate him so Jack can ask for his number.”

-

Normally when he’s on the bench between shifts, Jack ignores the taps on the glass and the people screaming his name, but tonight he has a tingling feeling on the back of his neck. He turns around and freezes.

Eric is there. The colours he’s wearing make Jack smile.

Eric holds his phone to the glass. Jack leans over to read it.

_ You’re “into hockey”, huh? _

Jack finds Eric’s eyes and laughs. ‘Sorry’ he mouths.

Jack’s called back on the ice and when he next comes off, Eric’s not there.

-

Jack checks every time he's off after that but no luck. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling that he's seen Eric for the last time.

They win, but Jack keeps himself apart from the celebrating, tuning out the chatter until Kent stands back up on the bench and calls them to attention. 

"Fellas, fellas." Jack finishes pulling his shirt on, ready for a congratulatory speech.

"We did it! I'm proud of you all! Your commitment and dedication to the cause was unparalleled." He gives them a round of applause. "Drum roll please?" 

The guys start banging on their lockers and stamping their feet. Kent hops off the bench and grabs Jack's arm, pulling him to the door.

"What's happening?"

"Get his number this time, yeah?" Kent says and pushes him out the door before he can compose himself.

Eric straightens up from the wall. "Hey."

"You're here," Jack says stupidly because his brain can't focus on forming words.

"And you're a professional hockey player," Eric counters, smiling.

"Yeah," Jack says bashfully.

"You wanted to see me? That's what the security guard said when he brought me here."

Jack looks to the locker room, sure the guys are pressing their ears to the door.

"I do. I, uh, had a nice time the other night. I was hoping we could do it again?"

"Go to a gay bar and watch TV?"

"Oh! No. I meant-" 

Eric grins and Jack realises he's joking.

Eric steps in to Jack. “Guess I shouldn't have given you shit about judging me on my looks that night.”

“Why? I mean, yes. But why?”

“Because I judged too. I assumed you were straight?”

Jack blinks. “I was at a gay bar.”

“With a friend!” Eric gestures broadly with his arms. “I thought you were just being supportive. You were by yourself watching hockey.”

“We were flirting,” Jack says defensively.

Eric drops his arms. “Hockey talk is flirting for you?”

Jack scratches under his ear. “Er, kind of? Yes? Kent says it’s my main love language, whatever that means.”

“That...puts that night into a whole new perspective.” Eric bites his lip. 

"So… Are you interested? Can I give you my number?"

“I already have your number.”

Jack frowns.

Eric grimaces. “Sorry. That was a shitty, ill-advised hockey reference.”

Jack laughs, catching up to the joke. “I loved it.”

“Well good. But, uh, if you wanted to give me your actual number?”

“Only if you give me yours too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Silvia (notenoughgatorade) for beta reading this work for me!
> 
> I try to reply to all comments so feel free to leave one (*^.^*)
> 
> Subscribe to the series so you don't miss any! They'll also be posted to [tumblr](https://17piesinseptember.tumblr.com/) and [pillowfort.](https://www.pillowfort.social/writingonpostcards)


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